I Hate You
by Little Miss Maybe
Summary: From the moment that Thing appeared, America's life has been hell. Forced to break every relationship he's ever had, he feels guilt and frustration start to overwhelm him. Can true love win out against something so entirely evil? USUK angst, awful summary
1. Chapter 1

**New story~! 8D It's basically just more USUK angst, involving demons and magical powers. Wee~! Enjoy! XD**

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><p>"I hate you!"<p>

The words sliced through England's heart, tearing it open and ripping it to shreds. Just three, simple words. It was amazing, really, what three words could do. But England wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't thinking at all, actually. His mind froze, not quite able to process what had happened. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, but he didn't notice or care. His knees collapsed underneath him and he fell forward, expression still blank.

_Wh... What...?_

Suddenly he understood.

His vision was blurred by tears and thoughts, his emotions swelling up inside him. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. Not even a change of expression, other than his eyes widening a little.

America was shaking, holding himself back. He wanted to scream, to tell England he didn't mean it. Laugh it off like everything else, say it was all a joke... But he couldn't.

It made him so mad.

His fists clenched even tighter. Even though he was wearing gloves, the warm, red liquid that was trickling from his palms was unmistakable. He couldn't bear to see England like this anymore, but he couldn't say anything... So he did the only thing he could do - the one thing he said he would never do.

He whipped around and ran away, tears being pushed away from his face by the wind. He ran faster than he had ever run before. He didn't stop, even when he was out of breath. When he couldn't run any further, he dropped his pace to a walk and then a crawl. He finally collapsed on a bench somewhere, it didn't matter where. His hands gripped his hair tightly and he finally let out a scream of anger and pain.

_How did it come to this?_

America shuddered as he remembered the faces of everyone he'd been forced to end his relationship with. France, Germany, China, Japan, Italy...

Canada...

The anger disappeared suddenly and was replaced by loneliness and overwhelming regret.

And now... He'd finally had to destroy the closest friendship he'd ever had. It made him want to vomit.

He glared at the sky, not really seeing it. "Damn it!" he yelled. "Why, damn it...! Why me? What do you want from me? Just leave me alone... Go away, I don't want this! Do you hear me? I DON'T WANT THIS! I can't..." The emotions were going to kill him. He gasped and shivered as another wave hit him, bringing with it nausea and an immense aching in his heart. He collapsed in another fit of sobs, too drained to scream anymore.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, wishing someone were there to hear him. "I'm so, so sorry... Everyone... I didn't... Want to hurt you... But I had no choice..." He doubled over, the emotional pain turning to physical. He hadn't eaten in days, he'd completely lost his appetite. He didn't want to eat, just the thought made his stomach churn. He closed his eyes.

Maybe he'd die here, right now. He inhaled sharply as his breathing became rough.

What a relief that would be, to just die. He wished it would happen. He had never wished for anything so much before.

But the one thing he wanted was impossible. He was a country, he was immortal.

He clenched his teeth and tightened his eyelids. Why couldn't everything just disappear? Everything hurt. His head, his hands, his arms, his legs, his feet, his heart... He felt so battered and torn; it felt like bruises and cuts covered every inch of his body.

His conscious thought and feeling started to fade slowly. He sighed in relief. It wouldn't last long, he knew. But he needed a break. Even if it was just for a little...

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><p><strong>Aah, I'm so horrible to both of them. XD Sorry, 'Meri, Iggy. But... It's just so fun to torture you two! . Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that. Reviews and constructive criticism are not mandatory, but highly appreciated! They give me some great ideas, and keep me going! Thanks~<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay, chapter 2~! XD FLASH BACK TIME~**

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><p>"Arthur… Can I… Talk to you for a moment?"<p>

The Brit raised one of his thick eyebrows. "Alfred, can't it wait? I'm in the middle of something important." He was talking to Japan about something, but America knew he had to do this now before he lost his nerve.

"It's… Really important…" America bit his lip, anxiety rising up inside him.

Japan gave America a funny expression, as if he knew what was going to happen. He bowed respectfully and backed away, mumbling some excuse to leave. England looked confused, but waved good-bye and turned to America, arms crossed.

"Okay, what do you want?"

America hesitated. How could he go through with this? What was he supposed to say? He wanted to turn and run away, avoid the entire situation. But… Did he really have a choice?

_It's better this way… For both of us…_

"England…" He sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to do. He noted England's slight surprise at the use of his official name. America opened his mouth to continue, but nothing came out.

He couldn't make his voice work. His brain started to freeze up, words disappearing into thin air. England nodded expectantly, but America couldn't continue.

He wouldn't be able to do it after all.

_No!_

He had to do it! There was no other way!

_For England…_

He had to do it fast before he had time to hesitate again, or he wouldn't be able to say anything. He didn't allow himself preparation time before plunging in again.

"England, you… You're always getting in my way!" He winced slightly. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best opening, but at least it was a start. England looked surprised, that particular sentence obviously not what he was expecting. America hurried on, not wanting to get caught and swept away again.

"You always treat me like a child! I thought I had won independence from you a long time ago, but I guess I was wrong. Why can't you let me be myself? You always boss me around, tell me what to do… I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of you!" America tried to make his voice as angry and frustrated as possible. It was extremely difficult, but luckily he was a very talented actor. If he hadn't been, England's hurt expression would definitely have made him fall to pieces on the spot.

"I-Is that all this is about?" England nervously waved his hand as if to ward the conversation away. "I thought-"

"Shut up, I'm not finished!" America interrupted, his tone as dangerous as he could make it. England actually physically reacted to that one, stumbling back a bit in shock. "You see what you do? You ruin everything, and I hate it! You won't even let me finish a damn sentence before you start telling me off! I hate it! I hate your cooking, I hate your stupid accent, I hate your ridiculous eyebrows, I hate your annoying attitude, I hate your idiotic imaginary friends, I hate those enraging green eyes always stabbing me with your obvious disappointment and dislike… But most of all…" America spat on the ground at England's feet.

"I hate you!"

_Did he really just say that?_

Had he really hurt England that much… On purpose?

Why...

Why?

_WHY?_

America's tired eyes flew open and he shot up into a sitting position. Immediately his head started to throb and the aching in his heart didn't exactly help. Even his dreams forced him to remember…

He closed his eyes again, physically unable to keep them open. He didn't know how long he'd slept, but he knew it had been a long time.

So why was he still so tired?

He wasn't sleepy, and exhausted really wasn't the right word…

_Drained._

Yes, that's what he was. Drained. He couldn't feel anything, the pains in his stomach finally subsiding and his headache fading slowly away. Even the emotions that had stabbed at him constantly were starting to disappear. He groggily looked around, trying to remember what was going on.

The memories slowly started to trickle back. America put his head in his hands, gripping his limp hair tightly. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go back home, Canada was there. He remembered Mattie's pained expression, his sad eyes and lowered head…

No, he couldn't go back there.

There were no countries he could stay with. They all either hated him or… Well, they all hated him. And honestly, he couldn't blame them. His face felt hot, like he was about to cry, but no tears came. He had no more tears to give.

He sat there for who-knows-how-long, completely still, shoulders slumped forward and head bowed. He didn't even think, but rather drifted in and out of consciousness. The pleasant weather and beautiful nature around him was completely lost and unregistered, along with the cramps that were starting to spring up from staying still for so long. His breathing was slow and unsteady, inhaling with short gasps and exhaling roughly and too soon.

If anyone had seen him, they would surely have scoffed and announced no one had the right to feel so utterly hopeless and depressed. There is simply nothing that could cause that amount of unhappiness, they would say.

But that was completely untrue. America could attest to that.

He had lost everything. Friends, family, possessions, and he could even feel his own spirit, his own personality not just changing drastically, but beginning to fade. He was like a statue, unmoving, unfeeling and slowly crumbling to dust.

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><p><strong>Yes, I'm evil. OTL Sorry, 'Meri, you're just too fun to torture!<br>**

**R&R? *Gives a hopeful look***


	3. Chapter 3

"England?"

England looked up, his tired eyes not fully registering what was around him. He vaguely remembered that he was in the conference room. A meeting had just ended and he'd thought everyone else had left. The only reason he wasn't gone too, was... Well, he didn't really know why. His legs just couldn't seem to support him. Yawning widely, he whispered, "Alf-America...?"

"A-Ah, no, Canada." Canada laughed nervously. England stared at him blankly for a minute and then rubbed his eyes.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly, as if he was unable to raise his voice above a whisper.

Canada gulped and said, "W-Well you just seem so tired, England... I wanted to know if you were okay..." England thought he heard a deep sadness in the other nation's voice, but he couldn't be sure. Sleep-deprivation was overriding everything.

"I'm fine," he lied as another yawn hit. "I just... Couldn't sleep last night..."

"Why? Does the reason have to do with..." Canada looked away and his voice was trembling. "...America?"

England said nothing, choosing instead to glare at the table. He heard a small _plop_ of a drop of liquid land on the table and looked up, confused as to what it was. His eyes widened slightly when he realized Canada had tears running down his face.

"Canada? What's wrong?" England asked, cocking his head to one side.

"I-I'm sorry..." Canada replied, taking off his glasses and trying to wipe his eyes. "S-So what's the matter, England?" England narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Canada was just trying to change the subject. _Well, might as well answer his question. Then I'll press mine._

"America and I... Well, we got into an... Argument..." England attempted a grin, but didn't succeed. Canada bit his lip and nodded.

"M-Me too. He told me..." Canada's voice was shaking. "He said I was useless and weak and..." He covered his face with his hands and started to sob.

"A-Ah..." England recovered from his surprise and got up quickly, trying to comfort the taller country. It was a bit awkward. "It's okay, Canada. I'm sure he didn't mean it..." He tried to smile.

"No, he did..." Canada sniffed pathetically. It was incredible how much he looked like his brother. "I know he did. I could tell. He... He hates me, I could see it in his eyes..." He broke down again and leaned against England's shoulder, shaking with every sob.

England patted his back and said as calmly as he could, "Yeah, he... He told me something like that, too... I can believe he hates me, he has many reasons to. But I'll never believe he hates you. You're his brother, he cares about you a lot more than he says." Canada looked up at the ceiling and wiped his eyes.

"Maybe..." he said finally. He turned and looked at England seriously. "I don't think he hates you, England." He sounded very sure of himself. "I think he likes you. A lot." England knew Canada was just trying to cheer him up. What he said about England couldn't be true, it was obvious America hated him, he'd even said it himself.

England frowned. _They are brothers though, so maybe he... But even so..._ He shook his head. _Impossible._ He said the word to himself and repeated it so he would remember.

Canada looked at him worriedly. "England, what are you thinking? You're expression seems..."

"We have to find that idiot," England said, cutting Canada off. He didn't want to discuss his private thoughts. "Who knows what trouble he could have gotten himself into," he continued quickly. Canada looked shocked for a minute, but then he beamed and nodded his head.

"Yeah, let's find him! What if he needs help? I can prove to him I'm not useless!" Canada looked excited and England had to laugh. _They look so similar..._

England caught himself and shoved the thought away. It brought back too many bad memories.

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><p><strong>Just taking a short break from poor, depressed Alfie, but don't worry, he'll be back soon~ XD R&amp;R please~<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

"Let's go find that idiot."

Well, it had seemed like a good idea when he said it. Of course, some things are easier said than done.

England shook his head and sighed in exasperation. The problem was, they had know idea where America went. He'd questioned Canada extensively, but he only said no, his brother hadn't told him anything.

"Where the bloody hell is he?" England snapped and hit his fist against the table. He snarled and ran his fingers through his wild hair.

"U-Um, maybe he..." Canada started to suggest something, when he suddenly got a faraway look in his eyes.

"Canada?" England touched his shoulder. He didn't respond. "Canada!" England grabbed the other shoulder and stared into his eyes. They were glazed over and unfocused. "Canada!" England cried again and shook Canada's shoulders. Those eyes were really starting to scare him.

There was silence for a moment, but then Canada seemed to wake up. He broke out of the trance with a snap of his head and blinked a few times. "England?" He frowned in confusion. "What's wrong? You look so scared. U-Um, could you let go of me? It kind of hurts..."

England sighed in relief and let his hands fall to his sides. "Ah, sorry, you just suddenly went into some sort of trance..." He broke off as he saw Canada's calm expression change to wide-eyed surprise. "What?"

"I... I know where America is...!" Canada managed to gasp.

"What? Where?" England more demanded than asked. He didn't even care about how Canada knew. He'd ask later.

"H-He's..." Canada scratched his head in thought and then continued. "He's..." He hesitated again and gave England a look of pity.

"Where is he?" England was about to start shaking him again, when Canada finally answered.

"He's... At... _That _place..." He looked England straight in the eyes and said, "The place where he won his independence."

England's eyes widened and covered his mouth with his hand. _That place? Why?_ His hand went up to his eyes as he tried to process the information. _Why was America there?_"Ah, Canada, how do you know that?" England asked as calmly as he could.

"Um..." Canada looked at the floor again. "I'm not sure... I suddenly had this feeling, like America was calling me or something... He sounded like he was in pain..." Canada blushed and grinned weakly. "I don't know..."

"Well that happens a lot with those Italians, so I guess that makes sense..." England reasoned. "The point is, we know where he is now. Let's go get him." Canada smiled and nodded. England wasn't quite so optimistic, though.

_What is wrong with him?_

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><p><strong>DID SOMEBODY SAY FILLER? 8D<strong>

**XD Sorry for the stupid chapter. It's necessary, unfortunately... ANYWAY, getting back to the good stuff next chapter, I promise! ^^  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

"...Nglan... Ric... Ada..."

America blinked his eyes groggily, not quite awake. He was still dreaming, but could vaguely hear voices coming from somewhere. They were so familiar... He closed his eyes again against the blinding sun. His head hurt so much... So did his back from lying on that cold bench for so long. He felt a hollowness inside him and an aching in his heart. But he couldn't remember why he was there in the first place... His mind wasn't awake enough to think about anything, really.

He clenched his teeth in frustration. Those voices were only getting louder and more annoying. He wished they would go away and let him sleep. He felt something on his face - a hand, maybe? Some more excited shouting. Why couldn't it just go away already?

As he started to drift off again, he felt arms around him. They were comforting and warm.

_It was nice..._

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><p>Canada clenched and unclenched his fists. He was so worried. After they had found America, they'd brought him back to his house and put him in bed. Canada was currently watching him, anxiously waiting for him to wake up, and England was downstairs.<p>

Canada had been shocked when he first saw America on that bench. He looked like a different person. His hair was limp and dull, Nantucket just barely managing to stand up, and his glasses were cracked slightly. His was ridiculously thin and bony, not the slim, strong person he used to be. His complexion was pale and his expresson showed sadness, loneliness, and defeat. Just thinking about it made Canada want to cry.

And now, as he watched America sleep, he could tell his brother was having a nightmare. He shivered and shook his head vigorously, mumbling something Canada couldn't hear. But then his voice started to rise, both in volume and hysteria.

"N-No, don't hurt him... Don't go near him..." Canada suddenly realized America was crying in his sleep. "D-Don't... Stay away... Stay away from them! I won't let you... Please..." Canada couldn't bear to see his brother like this. He walked over to the side of the bed and tried to wake him up, but to no avail. Even in this state, America was a notoriously heavy sleeper.

"Please, go away... I can't... I don't want..." America's expression broke Canada's heart. It was so helpless and dejected. He looked, well... Weak. Canada had never thought that word could ever be used to describe America.

"M-Mathew..." Canada was startled at the mention of his name. But America was still asleep. "S-Stay away from him... No, p-please... Don't hurt them... Go away!" America's eyes finally shot open and he bolted upright, his breathing coming in short gasps. He put his head in his hands and sobbed, obviously distressed. Canada put his hand on his brother's shoulder, attempting to comfort him, but it only made the situation worse. America froze at the contact. He looked up and saw Canada, his dull eyes lighting up with horror.

"Mathew..." He said the name quietly, breathlessly. He began to shake again.

"Alfred, what's wrong? W-" Canada started to ask, but America interrupted him by pushing his hand away and getting shakily to his feet. He looked around blindly and finally grabbed his glasses from the table. He put them on and stared at Canada for a moment.

"I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again," America said, emotion gone from his face and voice. It was quite intimidating.

"B-But I was worried... Everyone was..." Canada mumbled nervously, scared by America's sudden mood swing.

America stared at him for a moment. His eyes were icy and angry. "Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you seem to get it through your head that I don't want you around?" he said quietly. But to Canada, it felt like he'd been slapped. He wished America had screamed the words. For some reason it hurt more this way.

"England's right, you are an idiot," Canada said, starting to tear up again. His voice rose with every word, as did his frustration. "Can't you see how worried we were about you? I'm your brother, Alfred, I'm here to help you! Why do you keep pushing me away? What. Is. Wrong?"

America smiled slightly, but not in the goofy way he usually did. This one was cold, uncaring, as if what Canada had said was funny and childish somehow. "You were always one to poke your nose where it didn't belong..." America shook his head and reached for the doorknob.

"Alfred..." Canada started sobbing and looked at the ground. _He's leaving again... If I try to stop him, he'll just push me away... What am I supposed to do?_But America wasn't waiting for Canada to make up his mind. He opened the door and slowly walked out. Before he left, he glanced back at his brother once. Canada could've sworn he saw America wipe a tear from his face.

_No..._

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><p><strong>I'm such a sucker for brotherly drama. XD I hope you enjoyed it. And don't worry, we'll be getting to the USUK stuff next chapter~ C8<br>R&R, please!  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

"Where do you think you're going?"

America froze, but didn't turn around. He glared at the doorknob he had been about to grab. He knew that cynical voice. The very person he didn't want to see more than anything...

He heard England give a "hmph" and guessed he was crossing his arms. America allowed himself a tiny smile. It didn't last long, though. He had to get out of there before there was too big a confrontation. If there was, he might end up telling England everything. _I won't let that happen!_

Without turning around and keeping his tone neutral he replied, "I'm leaving. I don't want to be around you or Mathew. I thought I already made my feelings clear." He winced, realizing that he'd used his brother's real name. _I can't make anymore mistakes..._

England waited a moment before saying, "So, you're just... Leaving?"

"Yeah." America bit his lip. _I've gotta make this quick and painless._ "I'm sick of you guys! All you do is pull me down and tell me what to do! I hate it! I'm leaving and I won't let you, or anybody, stop me!" He slammed the doorknob down and was about to wrench it open when he felt England grab his hand.

"Please America, this isn't you! You've been acting strangely for a little bit now... What's really going on?" England's voice was pleading. America forced himself not to look at him. If he did, he would lose all of his self-control and spill everything. "I'll believe what you said about me, but I'll never believe you hate Canada. You would never hurt him intentionally! Can't you see what this is doing to him?" England continued.

America was silent, his hand frozen on the knob. He couldn't move. _England, please, go away..._

"Bloody idiot, look at me when I'm talking to you!" England shouted angrily, his grip on America's hand tightening involuntarily. America didn't stir.

"England, why can't you just let me go..." America whispered, his voice coming out a lot quieter and shakier than he wanted. He turned and stared into England's wide emerald eyes. _Please, England, please understand. For your sake..._ It took all of his willpower not to break down right there.

England's eyes widened even more. He looked like he'd seen something startling in America's expression. "Al-Um, America..." England looked down, his face red.

"Don't you dare use my real name," America said in a low voice, trying to make himself sound angry. "It's degrading. We're not close, so you don't have the right." But that wasn't the reason. England gave him a suspicious look. He obviously didn't think it was the reason either.

America gritted his teeth. "Look, you've wasted enough of my time already, so just get the hell out of my way and leave me alone!" he yelled, ripping England's hand away and yanking the door open.

"Alfred!" England sounded distressed. He grabbed America by the arm and refused to let go. "Alfred, please, don't leave me again!" He was crying in his desperation. _Damn it..._

America squeezed his eyes shut. He wouldn't look, he couldn't take it. His battered, weak heart throbbed in his chest. Each pound slammed into his resolve, smashing it to pieces. Memories whirled around in his head and he felt dizzy.

"I wasn't lying... When I said... I hate you..." he choked, breathing hard. His closed eyes tightened, attempting to barricade in the tears. "I hate you... So much..." He realized that if England's hand wasn't hanging on to him, he would have probably collapsed by now. He finally opened his eyes and gazed at England, smiling mournfully. With the dam broken, tears were pouring down his face. _Looks like I... Couldn't do it after all..._

"I-I... I hate everything about you... But the thing I hate the most is... How much I love you."

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><p><strong>FINALLY some USUK! XD Sorry it took so long. Anyway, I hope you liked it~<strong>

**R&R please!  
><strong>


	7. Chapter 7

"Arthur, please understand..."

America grabbed England's shoulders and stared at him pleadingly. He looked so pathetic.

England looked back into America's teary blue eyes, thoughts and emotions whirling around in his head. They were dull with grief and frustration. They could barely qualify as blue; they were more like a washed out gray. It really was quite disheartening. He remembered those round, bright blue eyes from all those years ago greeting him at the doorway and calling out to him...

He pushed the memories away. Going farther up the chain would only lead to the worst of them all. He never wanted to think about it again. And anyway, he had the present to think about. What had America said just now? That he...

_Loved him?_

No, that was impossible. Why would America love him? He had no reason to. Why would anyone like him at all, anyway? How could America stand to be with him all those years? But then again, America wasn't the easiest person to be with either. So why had they stuck together like that? Could... Could the truth be...

America looked dismayed at England's silence. "Please, Arthur..." he said again. "Please, I have to go... It's really important..."

"Why?" England bit back his frustration. "Why do you need to leave? Why can't you tell anyone what's going on? We care about you, Alfred! I... I was really scared..." He broke off before his voice started to quiver. America narrowed his eyes and bowed his head with a shameful expression.

"I know, and I'm sorry," he whispered. "But this is really important... I can't tell anyone, or else..." America trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

And then something unexpected happened.

It was like something finally snapped inside America. His eyes widened, immense fear apparent on his face. He started to tremble and his grip on England's shoulders tightened. America started to mumble something to himself in a fast, panicked voice that grew louder with every word.

"W-What if I've already messed up? What if he realizes what I've..." America gasped and his grip became even tighter. "What if he... Thinks... N-No, I-I can't let him... I won't let him! There's no way I... But then..." His eyes grew even bigger. "But what about... N-No..." He squeezed his eyes shut and his voice lowered. "N-No, he can't... They... I..." His voice became so quiet and so fast England couldn't understand what he was saying anymore.

"A-Alfred?" England said, fear welling up inside him. America didn't respond, he just kept mumbling to himself. "Alfred!"

"Ah..." America shuddered and released his tightly clasped hands. He fell forward and onto his knees. He lowered his head and started tugging at his hair fiercely, quivering and rambling on with soft whimpers. England looked on in horror, feeling completely helpless but unable to move.

Whatever was going on was tearing America apart.

England knew because just watching was tearing him up too.

He finally remembered how to works his legs and he kneeled down, trying to comfort the suffering nation.

"Alfred, please, come back," England whispered.

America couldn't hear. He was deaf to anything outside of his chaotic head. There was only one thing that reached him.

Suddenly America jerked awake and whipped around to stare at the door in wide-eyed terror. He mouthed some more words to himself.

"W-What, what happened?" England asked, severely alarmed.

"H-He's..." America shivered and wiped his eyes, England's presence still not registering. "Why... He shouldn't... No..." He rose shakily to his feet and walked slowly, unsteadily to the open doorway. "I... I can't let him..."

"Alfred...!" England was suddenly overwhelmed by dread. He darted forward and touched America's shoulder lightly. America froze and let out a soft cry. Then he whispered something almost too quiet for England to hear.

"Arthur, I messed up... I'm sorry."

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><p><strong>Oooooooh, cliff-hanger~! 83<strong>

**R&R please~  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

America was repeating the line like it was some sort of chant. "I'm sorry." He shuffled to the open door as if he couldn't lift his feet.

"W-Wait, Alfred!" England stepped in front of him, blocking the other country's path. "Please, what is so important?"

Suddenly America's dull eyes came alive with wild fury. He grabbed England by the shoulders and roughly pushed him to the side. "Don't you understand?" he screamed. "Matthew…" He closed his eyes as tears started to fall again. He sniffed, hastily wiping his eyes as he ran outside. England didn't move.

A shout from outside startled him out of his reverie. _What was that?_ He rushed through the door and came to an immediate stop in shock.

America was kneeling down in the grass, tears pouring down his face like two waterfalls. In his arms was…

"Matthew! You idiot! Why… Why did you…" America was shaking, fear and anger both prone on his face. Canada smiled weakly in response. He had blood all over his clothes, cuts and bruises dotting his body like paint.

"I'm s-sorry, Alfred… I-I heard yelling downstairs and… Something was… Coming…" Canada's speech was halted and low. Every now and again he was interrupted by a sudden cough. "As soon as I saw him, I realized… He's the reason… Isn't he…?" America nodded slowly. "I just wanted… To protect you… To prove I'm not… Useless…" Canada's eyes closed and he became limp.

"Matthew!" America felt his brother's pulse and sighed in relief. "I'm sorry, too," he murmured.

"Alfred, what is going on here?" England demanded, marching towards the brothers. "What happened to Canada?"

"England!" America set Canada down gently and stood up. He ran over, spun England around, and pushed him in the back. "Go away! Get back inside!" he said urgently.

"W-What? Why?"

"It's important!"

"WHY?"

America paused, frustration showing in his eyes. "I'll explain later. Now please, get back inside before he comes back!" He continued pushing England to the house.

"Who comes back? I don't understand!" England dug his heals into the ground and refused to move. America growled and picked him up princess-style, paying no heed to the volley of shouts and curses being thrown at him. He was about to carry England inside when he froze.

"No…" he whispered. "I'm… Too late…" England was about to ask what he was talking about, but he was interrupted by a sudden wind. It whipped around wildly and both countries were forced to look away. It was there, a ferocious and powerful wind – and then suddenly it was gone. It dropped dead completely.

"W-What…?" England lowered his hands from his face and his eyes widened. He was face to face with some sort of cloaked spirit. All he could see was a black cloth and hood with two cold, glowing eyes and a flashing, arrogant grin peeking out from under it. Their faces were so close England would have been able to feel the other "Thing" breathing, if it could. Long, bony fingers reached out and touched the side of his face, caressing his cheek and going down to his chin. The fingers felt like icicles.

"Well, well, well," the Thing said. It's voice was cocky and colder than the coldest of winters at Russia's house. "What have we here?"

"Who are you?" England asked, unable to keep his voice from shaking. "_What _are you?" The Thing laughed in response, a chilling, icy laugh.

"I suppose you could call me many things. It doesn't really matter now, does it?" it said, sneering.

"Please, don't hurt him." England could just barely see America over the Thing's shoulder. He looked desperate. "Please," he said again pleadingly. "Please don't hurt him. It's not his fault."

"You want me to kill you instead, do you?" The Thing snickered and looked over its shoulder at America. "I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you. Have you forgotten what I told you?"

"No, please!" America ran forward and grabbed its sleeve. "Please, I'm begging you!" The Thing simply tossed America away and turned back to England.

"Looks like it's just you and me, hm?" it said mockingly. Suddenly its freezing fingers were around England's neck and he was being lifted into the air. He struggled to free himself, but the Thing was too strong. It laughed. "Look at you, squirming around. It's really quite degrading." Its grip tightened. "Well? Are you ready to say good-bye?"

England gasped as everything started to spin. He felt weak, his head light in comparison with his heavy eyelids. His hands fell to his sides in defeat. _I can't…_

"No!"

* * *

><p><strong>In which we FINALLY meet the bad guy! XD Sorry that took, like, FOREVER.<strong>

**R&R please?  
><strong>


	9. Chapter 9

"I won't let you hurt him!"

The fingers were suddenly torn away from England's throat and he felt his shoulder collide with the ground. He gasped in pain and rubbed his neck gingerly. He looked up groggily, still dizzy from his near-death experience. America was standing in front of him, his arms thrown out protectively. The Thing was standing in front of America, laughing that chilling laugh. In short, America was the only thing standing between it and England.

The Thing smirked. "Trying to play the hero, hm? You're quite the show off."

"This has nothing to do with being a hero," America replied curtly.

The Thing stepped closer, staring intimidatingly into America's eyes. The young nation tensed, but glared right back. The Thing started to laugh again.

"You're very amusing, you know," it said. "It's all you're really good for. You're quite lucky, that's the only reason I'm not going to kill you. Now step aside, we had a deal, and I'm going to fulfill it."

"A deal?" America gritted his teeth, his eyes ablaze. "A deal is when two people reach an agreement! You just came out of nowhere one day and forced me to do horrible things to my only friends! _That isn't a deal!_"

"Very perceptive of you. Did you just figure that out?" it replied mockingly. America's eyes flashed dangerously. "Now stand aside, I'm getting tired of playing games. Or do I have to use force?"

America bit his lip. "Please don't hurt him!" he pleaded. "I could take his place! You could kill me, instead! Right?" he added challengingly. The Thing paused, and then nodded.

"I suppose," it said slowly. "Although, I'd have to add it up."

"Alfred, you can't be serious!" England exclaimed.

America nodded. "More serious than I've ever been."

"I'm not worth it!" England said desperately. "Save yourself!"

"No."

"What?"

"I said 'no.'" America turned his head and looked at England seriously. "I don't know if I could live without you, Arthur. If it kills you, it kills me, too. I won't let you die!"

The Thing sneered and pointed at America. "I've come to the conclusion that killing you would actually be best. Thank you for the suggestion."

"What? N-No!" England felt helpless. He couldn't let this happen. "Alfred, don't do it! I… I don't think I could live without you either…" America's eyes widened slightly, and he smiled.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," he said gently. "For everything."

"Are you done yet?" the Thing said impatiently.

"Yeah."

"Wait!" England cried. "Alfred, please-"

"England!" America's eyes were fierce. England's shoulders sagged and his vision started to blur. Was this really it?

America turned back to the Thing. "I'm ready." It smiled, satisfied.

"Good." It lifted its hand, palm upward. A tiny ball of icy light appeared in its hand, growing bigger every second. England's thoughts raced around his head, making him dizzy. Why was this even happening? What was the point?

_Why can't I stop this?_

America closed his eyes and smiled at England sadly. "Sorry," he murmured.

There was a flash of blinding light and England felt cold.

"Alfred!"

* * *

><p><strong>I love cliff-hangers~! 8D R&amp;R please?<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

"ALFRED!"

England's frantic cry was lost in the blaze of light. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep himself steady. Finally, the light disappeared and he realized just how cold he'd been. He shivered and slowly opened his tired eyes, afraid of what he was about to see.

America was still standing; the only change in his position was that his outstretched arms were now limp at his sides. England breathed a sigh of relief. _He's okay…_

His relief quickly turned to horror though, when the American's knees suddenly collapsed under him and he fell backward. England ran forward and just barely managed to catch him by his armpits.

"Bloody hell," England gasped, stumbling back under the weight. "He's heavy…" He set America down on the grass as gently as he could. Panting hard, he finally saw what the light had done. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as anxiety and fear started to well up in his stomach.

Blood was pouring from numerous gashes all over the young nation's body. There were bruises and scratches, and an especially nasty cut above his right eye. A long slash of red beginning to spread out on his jacket indicated more serious injuries on his chest and stomach. He was breathing very heavily, each gasp short and shallow. His face was pale, his eyes shut tight, and England was pretty sure arms weren't supposed to stick out at that angle.

"Alfred…!" he managed to choke out. His vision started to blur and his face felt hot. "Alfred!" He shook America weakly. "Alfred!" He could hear his voice getting shakier and more desperate with every cry. "Alfred, please! Wake up, damn it! Wake up!" Tears scalded his face, burning like hot cinders. He couldn't see and he felt dizzy, lightheaded.

"Arthur…" The weak voice was so quiet England almost missed it. He bit his lip nervously and leaned in to hear better.

"Arthur…" America smiled as best he could, trying to look reassuring. It only made England want to cry more. "Arthur, I-" America was cut off by a sudden coughing fit that wracked his entire body.

"Alfred, you can't die!" England moaned. "Please Alfred! Y-You can't, you're a country! You're immortal!"

"Not… Against… It…" America choked.

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"I-It's… Some sort of… Demon… From Hell… Or something..." America's breaths were becoming heavier. His chest heaved again as he struggled to exhale. "It's purpose is…" He coughed weakly.

"What? What is it?"

"It becomes… Stronger… The more misery… It causes…" America inhaled sharply. "It came to me… One day… And said… If I didn't break… All my relationships… It would… Kill you…" His voice broke and his eyes fluttered half-open. He stared at England with his dull eyes and attempted a grin. It didn't help.

"You did all this… For me?" England whispered. America made a tiny nod.

"I couldn't tell… Anyone… Because that would… Kinda defeat the purpose…" He tried to chuckle, but another cough interrupted him.

"Y-You…" Fresh tears started to cascade down England's face. "Idiot…"

"Please, Arthur…" America gasped. "Please… Don't cry… I've had enough… Of crying…" England hastily wiped his tears with his wrist, nodding. America smiled in relief. "Thanks…" He shut his eyes again. "Don't be… Too sad… About this… Arthur…" he murmured. "Try… To be happy… It could… be… The only…" He coughed pathetically once more. He opened his eyes slightly and stared at the sky, a small smile on his face.

"Could I… Protect you? Was I… Finally able to… Be a hero?" he said faintly. He shuddered suddenly and closed his eyes again. He went limp as the rest of the color finally drained from his face.

Dead silence.

"Al… Alfred…?" England whispered. He tentatively reached out and shook America's shoulder gently. "Alfred!" He shook more vigorously. "Alfred!" No response. "Al…!"

Nothing.

It was like a giant waterfall was suddenly crashing down on him. There was no sound except for the chaos inside his head. He closed his eyes to keep himself from crying. "Alfred!" he screamed. His heart throbbed in his chest, pulsing painfully. He started shaking America again.

"Alfred, wake up! Please come back, damn it! Come back, I need you! I need you, I… I love you!" England wasn't even aware of what he was screaming and what he was thinking anymore, but it didn't matter. He leaned in, his face just inches from America's.

"Did you hear me?" England whispered. "Did I reach you? Please…" He was trembling, barely holding back the tears. "Please come back to me… I love you…" He closed the distance between them and tenderly, clumsily kissed America's cold, lifeless lips. As soon as they touched, England felt something – like electricity – run through his body. It felt like a reservoir of warmth was inside him.

And then something changed. He didn't know what, but he felt… Different somehow. It felt nice.

He pulled away from the kiss, confused.

_What was that?_ As soon as the question popped into his head, he realized what had happened.

The first thing he noticed was that he was wearing a white, sleeveless tunic instead of his normal clothes. There was also a pair of two big, feathery white wings on his back, and for some reason he had a wand in his hand. His face burned in embarrassment as he tugged at the bottom of the tunic, wishing more than anything for it to be longer.

"B-Britannia… Angel…?" he murmured to himself, his confusion growing. He hadn't been Britannia Angel in ages! In fact, it had been so long, he'd actually completely forgotten about it. Why had he suddenly transformed now?

_Think, England, think!_ He thought back to all the other times he'd transformed. What did they have in common…?

A sudden, chilling laugh brought him back to reality. He looked up and saw the Thing standing a short distance away, an arrogant, amused expression somehow conveyed by its flashing eyes. England had completely forgotten it was there.

"My, my," it said, clapping its hands together. "What a surprising turn of events." The Thing smirked and sauntered closer.

Seeing that, remembering what had happened… England was suddenly filled with rage.

_It's that Thing… That _monster's_ fault! All of this… Canada, me… America…_ England stood up and stepped in front of America's limp form protectively. Though it was his most embarrassing form, Britannia Angel was also his strongest. Now he might actually have a chance against that Thing!

"America… Alfred…" England set his jaw and glared straight into those cold, cocky eyes. "The road ends here," he said fiercely. "You're going down. I'm sending you straight to Hell!"

"Where do you think I come from?" the Thing hissed playfully. It laughed again. "You actually think you can beat me? Ah, this should be interesting."

"I'm not afraid of you. I'm going to destroy you." _For Alfred…_

"Getting cocky, eh?" It chuckled coldly. "Fool."

England ignored the comment and focused on remembering his magic. _For Alfred…_

_For him…_

As the two prepared to fight, no one noticed the faint heart beat that suddenly started to throb as a glimmer of life reentered the cold form…

* * *

><p><strong>...Britannia Angel is win. And yeah, sorry America. XD R&amp;R please~<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**This is pretty much just unnecessary filler. XD All it is is America being pathetic. Yeah. That's it. You can skip this if you want.**

* * *

><p>"Arthur…"<p>

The faint whisper went unheard.

"Arthur…"

Again, no reply.

What was this, this strange feeling… Like there was something missing…

Noise.

Yes, that's what was missing. And then suddenly, it wasn't anymore. The constant pounding, beating, ticking, throbbing of life…

It was there again, the never-failing noise.

But something else was missing, too. Ah, there it was. The movement. The fall and rise of a chest; the feeling or air rushing through lungs.

The pulse of life.

"Arthur…!"

Nothing.

"Please…"

The pathetic plea faded into the background.

"Please, Arthur… I'm scared…"

The grass rustled somewhere.

"I'm confused…"

Was that footsteps nearby?

"It hurts…"

…

"It hurts to be alone…"

…

"Help me…"

…

"Help…"

…

"Please, Arthur… Help me!"

…

"I love you…"

…

"I need you…"

…

"Help…"


	12. Chapter 12

"What's wrong? Are you only just realizing you've bitten off more than you can chew?"

The Thing's mocking voice cut through England's thoughts. He growled and backed up a little, ignoring the blood running down his cheek. They had only been fighting for a minute, and already it was beating him. He was better than this, why couldn't he seem to land a hit?

"Well?" It sneered at him condescendingly. "Will you give up?"

"No," England snarled. "I'm going to beat you!" He muttered a spell under his breath and fired a small beam of light from his wand. The Thing laughed and stopped the attack with a simple wave of its hand.

"Really, I thought you would actually make me break a sweat with all that bravado!" It laughed. "And yet, this is all you could muster… I'm very disappointed. I don't do well with disappointment." It flicked its hand again, forming three dark purple energy balls. They flew towards England, buzzing with some sort of evil power. He just barely managed to dodge two, but the third hit him in the side and sent him toppling over. He hit the ground and his side stung like crazy. Gasping for air, he pulled himself up, quickly stumbling out of the way of another attack.

_I'll never win like this!_ he thought. _There must be something I can do! Its just so strong…_

His legs were shaking and his breathing was ragged. He was starting to get tired, which was never good. Another pain in his forehead made him wince. How was he supposed to beat this Thing?

It was laughing again. Damn that arrogant laugh.

"Forgive me," it said sarcastically. "You're actually rather cute, the way you're trying to defeat me, against all odds, to save your pretty little boyfriend! It's just like those fairy-tales, isn't it? There's only one difference: this isn't a fairytale!" It advanced, the air around it humming with power. England gritted his teeth and took a defensive position, but was unable to avoid the Thing's next set of energy balls. He found himself thrown onto the ground, panting for air, too weak to get up.

_It's… Too strong…_

Frustration and disappointment washed over him, magnified by the frantic emotions swirling around in his head. What was he going to do? He had to kill this Thing!

A sudden, quiet moan nearby startled England out of his thoughts. Where was it coming from? He groggily turned his head to one side and saw America lying not too far away. The blond nation was… Wait… He was moaning? England's mouth fell open in shock. Energy was suddenly racing through him. He scrambled to America's side, examining the pale face.

"A-Alfred?" he asked tentatively. No response. His heart sank and his new-found energy was immediately snuffed out. He felt dizzy, and sitting up like that was getting harder. He slowly collapsed and laid his head on America's chest, closing his eyes.

_He's so cold…_

Suddenly, there was another moan. It was quiet, but it resonated in England's ears. His eyes flew open and he felt his heart lift. There was no doubt about where it was coming from.

"Alfred!" he gasped. He sat up and shook Alfred gently.

"Nn…" The other nation opened his eyes less than halfway, revealing dull blue eyes. His expression was blank and he was obviously exhausted, but…

_He's alive…!_

Something akin to unmatched, joyful warmth was spreading throughout England's body. "Alfred…!" was all he could say before the tears started flowing. He barely noticed the wetness rolling down his cheeks. "H-How…?"

America attempted a smile, but all he could manage was a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. He wanted to sit up and embrace England, tell him everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't move.

"Ar… Arthur…" he whispered, his voice like a ghost. It was the only word that would leave his lips. He tried to say something else, but he couldn't get his mouth to work properly. "Arthur…" he repeated shakily. England was about to say something else, but that annoying, dark laugh interrupted.

"How cute." England turned and saw the Thing coming closer, its hands clasped together tightly. Sarcastic, mocking venom was dripping from every word. "How utterly, disgustingly cute." Its eyes flashed dangerously. "How pathetic. And so the lovers are rejoined and live happily ever after, eh? How cliché." It spat. "You two enjoy your happiness; it will only last a little. After all, you can't beat me, can you? Not to save your boyfriend, not to save yourself. Hell, if the whole world were depending on you, it wouldn't matter. You can't do it. I win. I always win." It was towering over them now, its icy, dark eyes glaring straight into England's emerald ones. A small, arrogant smile ghosted over its face.

"Well?" it said. "Aren't you going to fight me? Isn't this the part of the story where you stand up and defeat me somehow? Isn't this when a miracle is supposed to happen?" It laughed cruelly. "Absolutely pathetic."

"N-No…!" England gasped. "I have to win… But how, it's impossible…!" He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was America.

"I-It'll… Be okay…" He was barely audible. "We can't… We can't beat him… But maybe… We don't have… To…"

"What do you mean?" asked England, thoroughly confused.

"There might… Be… Another… Way…" America's hand fell limp and he closed his eyes, obviously exhausted. England was scared for a second before he realized America's heart was definitely still beating.

"Another way…?" England mumbled to himself. "What does that mean?"

"I'm waiting," said the Thing in an impatient, singsong voice. England immediately tensed up. He was still so confused about what America had said and he wanted to figure it out, but how could he, with that Thing standing there? Why did it have to be there, anyway? Why was it doing this?

_Wait…!_

And then he had it.

_I bet that Thing has never felt real happiness before. Misery is probably the only thing it's ever known! So what if I… Showed it what true happiness is? Would it… Stop?_

England gripped the handle of his wand tightly, his thoughts racing around in his head double-time.

_But how could I do that? Argh… Well, I have to try… For Alfred's sake._

"Enough waiting!" the Thing said, a hint of anger in its voice. "Let's get this over with already!"

England smirked and nodded. "I agree. Let's go." He stood up and looked into the dark, hooded face of the Thing. He was surprised to see dejection tracing its barely-visible features, and for the first time, he felt a pang of sympathy for the creature. It was completely alone and had only one purpose: to cause misery. It had probably never felt kindness or pleasure before. He remembered all the gentleness and compassion America had shown him and realized just how lucky he was.

His wand started to vibrate and glow as he thought more and more. All of his feelings, every happy memory was being channeled into the device involuntarily. A frown crossed the Thing's face. It seemed to be perplexed as to what England's next move would be.

"Tch, what are you waiting for?" it said, irritated. "Your move!" England didn't respond. He just stared into the Thing's eyes, seeing more and more sad feelings there. It was so lonely.

Suddenly, he looked down at his wand and was surprised by how bright it was. He held it up in front of him, pointing it at the Thing. It laughed mockingly.

"What a pretty little light show," it sneered. "But that won't do you any good."

"Maybe not," England replied. "But I think it will do you some." The wand fired a bright, warm light at the Thing. It didn't seem to have a single color, but kept shifting. It hit the Thing before it had a chance to move and there was a quick flash, like some sort of explosion. A high-pitched scream was heard, and then there was darkness. England's legs collapsed under him and he began to fall…

* * *

><p><strong>FAIL, FIGHT SCENE IS FAIL. OTL I'M SORRY. <strong>

**I _do_ like the Thing's insults, though. XD Any guesses as to what happens to it next~?**

**R&R please!  
><strong>


	13. Chapter 13

"Nngh…"

England slowly forced his tired eyes open. Light immediately blinded him and he closed his eyes again, groaning. He put a hand over his eyes and tried opening them again. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, recognizing it as his own, when a face suddenly blocked his vision.

"Why, hello there! Finally decided to wake up, did you?" said a cheery voice. England almost fell out of the bed he hadn't even realized he was lying in.

"Wha… Who…?" He sat up, ignoring the slight pain in his back, and got a good look at the owner of the voice. "A-Ah…!" He rubbed his eyes and looked again. No, he was not hallucinating. The Thing, the source of all his previous trouble and misery, was standing in front of him… Grinning. Not that sarcastic, arrogant grin it had had before, but a sincere, happy grin. It was quite creepy.

"B-But you…! I...! What's going on here?" England demanded shakily. It chuckled good-naturedly.

"Hello, Arthur!" It extended a white, bony hand. "My name is Robert. Thank you so much for helping me. I'm very sorry for everything." Robert gave a genuine smile. England tentatively took its hand and shook it. He eyed the sunny being suspiciously as it watched a bird outside the window, a look of absolute contentment on its face.

"What happened?" England asked after a moment of silence. Robert turned back to him, still smiling. It was really starting to creep England out.

"I believe what happened, sir, was you fired some sort of happy-beam at me. It filled me with such a wonderful feeling; I'd never felt anything like it before. It really did change me. Thank you very much for that!" Robert said matter-of-factly without changing his expression. At first, England wasn't sure whether to trust it or not – it _did_ just attempt to murder him and the love of his life – but then he looked into its warm, purple eyes and he understood it was being completely honest. He smiled at it, finally touched by the pure bliss it was feeling. Then he paused.

"Wait… Where's Alfred? And his brother… Ah… Ma… Matthew! Yes, where are they?" he asked nervously. Robert's smile grew bigger.

"It's okay, everyone is okay," it said reassuringly. "Alfred is in the next room, and Matthew is downstairs eating. I have quite a talent for healing things," it added proudly.

England breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Robert. Ah… May I go see Alfred, please?"

"Of course. I wouldn't dream of keeping you two apart!"

Robert helped England out of bed and into the next room. Surprisingly, he wasn't that hurt. He was still a little sore, but Robert was right, it _was_ very good at healing. Still, he had some trouble walking.

"And here he is," said Robert when they reached America's bed. It helped England into a chair next to the bed and then stood a little off to the side.

America was still asleep and he had a few bruises, but he seemed altogether unhurt. He was having no trouble breathing and his expression was peaceful. The sight made England's heart flutter with happiness and relief. He had almost forgotten what America looked like when he wasn't in a world of agony.

England had hoped America would sleep a little longer, but it seemed the Brit's presence caused him to stir. He slowly blinked open his blue eyes, which were slightly unfocused as he wasn't wearing his glasses. His eyes wandered around a little, before resting on England. He smiled a little, but then he jumped up in shock when he saw Robert.

"Ah!" he yelled and pushed himself against the headboard. He started pointing frantically at Robert and shouting things in a panic. "W-What the hell are you doing here? Who the hell let you in? I swear, I am going t-"

"America!" England said sternly, cutting him off. He sighed and shook his head. "It's okay. This is Robert."

"B-But t-that's the Thing t-that…!" America started to protest, but England interrupted him again.

"I just said it's okay! It isn't a horrible demon anymore. It isn't going to hurt you or me," England explained slowly. America just stared at Robert fearfully. It came over, laughing lightly.

"It is understandable that you would be suspicious of me," it said cheerily. "But I assure you, I will not cause you any harm. From this day forth, I will never hurt anyone ever again." America shivered at its smile and looked to England pleadingly. His expression seemed to say, "please get me out of here!" England just barely held back a giggle.

"W-Where's Mattie?" America asked nervously.

"Downstairs, eating," Robert said.

America nodded and got out of bed, but stumbled. Robert caught him and helped him to his feet, but America pushed its hand away, snagged his glasses, and shuffled to the door. He grabbed England's arm and pulled him out of the chair, whispering, "Let's go somewhere private." England didn't bother resisting; even when he was that weak, America was still stronger than him. They went back to England's room. America shut the door and looked around suspiciously, as if he expected Robert to be spying on them.

"I don't trust it," hissed America. England chuckled at his serious expression.

"Don't be silly, Alfred," he replied. "If it meant us harm, it wouldn't have healed us and we would be dead by now. Besides…" He wrapped his arms around America and laid his head on the other country's chest lovingly. "We still have each other, right? That's all that matters."

The younger country flushed and looked away, muttering, "Yeah, I guess…"

"Just be glad it's all over," England said, trying to lighten the mood. America just grunted and mumbled something along the lines of "I still don't trust that Thing…"

England gave America an affectionate squeeze and pulled away, smiling warmly. "I love you," he said tenderly. America froze and stared at England, gaping.

"W-What?" he whispered incredulously. England blinked, confused.

"D-Didn't… Didn't I already tell you that?"

"No!" The shock still hadn't disappeared from America's voice. England frowned and scratched his head.

"Oh… I guess I told you that when you were dead…" He laughed nervously, turning red in embarrassment. "But, ah… I do… I mean, I really do love you…" he stammered out, unsure of what to say. America just stared at him in complete silence, making England extremely uneasy. He started to wonder if he'd messed up and if America had really meant it before when he said he loved him.

Suddenly, America tackled England to the floor and started kissing him all over his face excitedly. "England, you are so cute!" he exclaimed, grinning. Before England had the chance to respond, America had found his lips and they were in a full-on embrace. The blue-eyed nation finally pulled away and hugged England tightly around the neck. "I love you, too! You're just so cute!" he cried happily. England could only grin back in relief.

They stayed like that for a few moments, before England finally said, "Ah, Al… Could you please get off me?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry!" America jumped up and pulled England up with him. The Brit received another hug and a quick kiss on the nose, before America was running out of the room and down the stairs.

"I'm gonna go check on Mattie!" he called out behind him, and then he was gone. England chuckled to himself and shook his head.

"Always so full of energy…" He followed the American, although at a much slower pace. He arrived in the dining room downstairs to find America chatting nonstop while his brother ate pancakes with an amount of maple syrup that should have been illegal. _Everything is finally back to normal…_

When America saw England, he wasted no time in bounding over and giving him another tight squeeze. "I'm so happy you're okay…" he whispered, and released England. He stared deeply into England's eyes, and continued, "I mean, I was so scared… I really thought…" He shook his head and the worry that had started to creep into his expression vanished. "We're okay. We're all together again! None of us are hurt," he said, although it sounded more like he was trying to assure himself of that fact than England. He shivered and wiped a little sweat from his forehead.

"Hm? Alfred, are you okay?" asked England.

"Y-Yeah, of course, dude!" America replied, giving a somewhat weaker grin than before. Seeing that England's worried expression hadn't gone away, he added his usual laugh. England observed it was a few notes higher than it was supposed to be.

"Alfred? Look, we just got out of a really difficult mess, so it would be completely norm-"

"I said I'm okay, Arthur!" America repeated, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"It doesn't look like you're okay," said a voice from behind them. England jumped, but realized it was Canada. He had completely forgotten he was there.

America turned to face his brother and said, "I-I'm okay! How many times do I…" He trailed off and started rubbing his arms, which were covered with goose bumps. He was shivering again. England, a little scared now, came over and hugged him.

"It's okay," he whispered. America was indeed trembling; he could feel it. "It's alright if you're tired or sick or something. I'll take care of you."

"But…" America was interrupted by a weak coughing fit.

"Alfred?" England pulled away and patted America on the back. "Are you feeling dizzy, or…" America nodded tiredly. "O-Okay then, you should get back to bed."

"Yeah. Come on," said Canada as he took his brother's arm and started helping him up the stairs. As England watched, he remembered something.

"Huh… I wonder…" he murmured to himself.

"You wonder what?"

"Waah!" England jumped back and whipped around to see Robert there with a huge grin. "W-Wha… H-How did you…?"

"What were you wondering about?" Robert asked again, his grin not fading in the slightest.

"O-Oh," said England. "Ah, I was wondering… You… Really did kill America… Didn't you?"

Robert nodded. "Yes."

"Then how… How did he come back to life?"

Robert came closer, his grin widening. "It was you." England blinked.

"M-Me?"

"Yes, of course!"

"B-But how…?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but…" Robert turned away and stared out the window. "My theory is that little kiss you gave him."

"What?"

"Don't you remember? You kissed America right after he died. That was when you transformed into Britannia Angel. I believe it's connected," Robert explained simply.

England remembered the electric feeling that had passed through him at that moment and wondered if Robert was right. "Well then, how are they connected? What exactly happened?"

"How should I know?" Robert shrugged. "I'm just a supernatural demon-thing. _You're_ the angel, here. You figure it out."

England swallowed his frustration and just said, "I'm going to go check on America." Robert nodded, and England headed upstairs.

_Just what happened…?_

* * *

><p><strong>...I LOVE ROBERT. LIKE, SO MUCH. XD R&amp;R please~!<strong>

**(And yes, Robert is who my account was named for. 83 By the way, I didn't create it by myself. My friend Elyse and my brother Aaron helped a lot, too~! Elyse is also Chip-munk on deviantArt. Anyway, thanks Aaron and Elyse~!)  
><strong>


	14. Chapter 14

"Mattie, y-you don't have to help me like this…"

Canada didn't respond and instead continued to fix up the blanket covering America. "Mattie, it's okay!" America whined. He tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea held him down again. He groaned and held the back of his hand against his eyes, attempting to block out the light. Canada sighed in exasperation.

"Alfred, stop pushing yourself!" he scolded. "Why can't you just admit you don't feel well and let someone take care of you for once?"

America gave a weak grin. "Because I'm… The hero… O-Of course," he replied. He hadn't meant to show that much exhaustion.

"You're an idiot," Canada muttered, more to himself than to America.

"But you… Love me anyway… Right, bro?" America asked jokingly. Why couldn't he get his voice to come out right?

Canada smiled softly and said, "Yeah… Of course I love you, Al. You're my brother!" Alfred's forced grin faded.

"Even… After everything I did?" he asked in a low whisper.

"Of course!" Canada said without hesitating. "It wasn't your fault, anyway."

"Yeah… I guess…" America looked away, choosing instead to stare at the window with dull eyes. "You're too forgiving, Mattie…" he murmured, barely audible. "How can you even look at me, after everything I said…"

"Don't you dare blame yourself!" Canada said seriously. "It wasn't your fault at all. That Thing was forcing y-"

"You don't get it!" cried America suddenly. His eyes were starting to fill with frustrated tears. "That _Thing_ may have forced me into that situation, but... I... I was the one who said those horrible things. I could have said anything, _anything _else and I..." He hid his face beneath the covers, shaking and sobbing quietly.

Canada came over and sat by America, petting the top of his head. "Ssh... It's okay, Alfred, we forgive you. Both of us," he said reassuringly. America sniffed pathetically.

"H-How do you know it's okay? Did you ask England what he thought? He hides plenty of things, he could be..." He broke off into more muffled sobs. "I don't know what to do, Mattie! I-I can barely..." He carefully peeked out from under the covers, looking around with worried, red eyes. Suddenly, something happened to America's vision.

Everything even remotely colored lightly seemed to take on a blinding white glow, and everything else was dark. Tiny black spots danced in front of his eyes and he felt dizzy. He could barely see. Disoriented and nauseous, he tried to stand up, glancing around frantically. But his shaky legs quickly gave out and he fell to the ground on his knees. It sounded like Canada had called out his name, but he couldn't tell. Everything was foggy, like he was underwater. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep out the frightening light.

"M-Mattie?" he cried out. "Mattie! W-Where are you? What happened?" He desperately rubbed his eyes, trying to force them back to normal somehow. It only made the black spots worse. His head fell into his hands and he sobbed, panicked. This was probably his punishment for doing such horrible things to the people closest to him. That must be it.

_Well, if that's the case..._ America slowly opened his eyes. Everything was back to normal. He cocked his head to one side, confused. Then suddenly it came back. _This is what I deserve..._

Everything was spinning - his head, the room, the sounds around him. It was possibly one of the scariest moments of his immortal life.

And then his savior came.

A pair of warm arms wrapped around him, pulling America into a comforting embrace. He groggily looked up. He couldn't make out the face thanks to the blinding light, but he knew instinctively that it was England. He clung tighter to the older man, feeling safe in his arms.

"Thanks..." America whispered. "And I'm sorry..."

England responded, but America couldn't hear what had been said. He had already drifted off to sleep.

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><p>"Bloody hell, Matthew, what was that about?" England asked as he ran his fingers through his hair. Canada shook his head.<p>

"I don't know."

England gazed at America's sleeping form in the bed and couldn't help but feel bad. The poor boy had been through so much just to save the ones he cared about, and yet he still had to go through even more hardships. _He shouldn't have to suffer so much..._

"He feels responsible, you know. For what happened..." Canada put in quietly, his eyes on the floor. England turned and stared at Canada, confused.

"What?"

"He thinks it was his fault somehow." The Canadian walked to the door, frustration apparent in his face. "He's such an idiot..." he muttered to himself and left the room. England turned his attention back to America, feeling even worse.

How could that moron possibly think it was his fault? It wasn't like he had wished for this to happen! England's thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan coming from the bed. He moved closer, and put a hand on America's hot forehead. The American responded by opening his eyes less than half-way and looking up at England groggily.

"A... Arthur...?" he whispered dully. England nodded and patted America's head affectionately.

"Ssh... Get some rest. You could use it."

"B-But...!" America blinked furiously, struggling against the weariness that was gnawing at him. "But I... I want to..." He was losing. His drooping eyelids and fading conscience were proof of that. "I want to... Be with you..." he mumbled, his words a little slurred by his tiredness.

It was really cute. England smiled and patted America's head some more. "Ssh... It's okay, I'm right here, Alfred. I'll be here when you wake up. Go to sleep, you need it."

"But I'm... Scared..." America's eyes were finally closed, but his eyelids were tight and he was frowning; it seemed he was still trying to fight. That was just like him. It made England smile. The boy had spirit. "W-We're finally... Together... Again... I don't... Want to leave..."

"It's okay, Alfred. I'm right here."

America seemed to have calmed down considerably. His whole expression had relaxed. He put out a weak hand and shakily gripped England's arm. "Don't go..." he murmured and fell asleep. His arm dropped, limp. England sighed, smiling at how cute America was acting. _So childish..._He carefully held America's arm and put it on the bed, so it wasn't hanging uncomfortably. Then, keeping true to his word, he sat down and watched the sleeping boy.

America's breathing was finally normal, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looked so much more peaceful than before, and so innocent. England took his glasses and placed them on the table - America wouldn't want them to get cracked.

"Nn..." America shivered slightly.

"Mm? Alfred?" England frowned and stared at America's face.

"C-Cold..." he muttered, trembling a little more. England looked harder, and confirmed America was talking in his sleep. He didn't seem very comfortable, either. He was shivering more and more.

"E-England...!" The poor boy's cry was absolutely pathetic. His lower lip was quivering, along with most of the rest of his body. England couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Ssh, Alfred, it's all right. I'll go get you some more blankets, okay?" He got up to leave, but a tiny tug on the hem of his sleeve stopped him.

"Don't... Please don't... go..." America's eyes were only the slightest bit open, but he still didn't seem to be truly awake. His weak grip on England's sleeve was slipping. He shivered again.

"Idiot," said England, laughing a little. "How am I supposed to get you more blankets if you won't let me leave?" He started to move away again, but again, America cried out.

"N-No...! E-England, I'm scared...! Please don't... Leave me alone...!" He sounded much more frantic than before, and he was _definitely_ shivering more. England gave in with a sigh, noting that America had switched to his other name.

_He must be really out of it..._"Fine." He crossed his arms. "Then how the hell am I going to get you to warm up?"

"C...Come..."

"What?"

America looked like he was on the verge of tears. He renewed his grip on England's sleeve and gave it a little tug. "C-Come... Come here..." England sighed and shook his head, smiling.

"I'm here," he said softly, sitting back down and caressing America's golden hair. He took the younger nation in his arms and held him tight, noting how tense the man was. "I will always be here." America relaxed into England's embrace and was soon fast asleep, his head resting comfortably on England's chest. His expression was tired, but peaceful; it was a soothing sight. "Idiot," England murmured with a smile. "Why would I ever leave you?"

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><p>America shivered as a sudden chill swept through him. He forced his eyes open and sat up, ignoring the stab of pain in his head. He looked around groggily, his eyesight blurred from his lack of glasses, and realized he was alone. He shivered again and lay back down, wrapping himself tightly in the covers in an attempt to get warmer. He noticed vaguely that there seemed to be more blankets than he remembered. He closed his eyes and started to wonder where England had gone. He had probably just gone to the bathroom or something. Surely, he would be back soon. But as more and more time passed, something resembling fear started to creep into America's heart.<p>

"England..." he moaned, barely audible. "Where are you?" He wrapped his arms around his pillow and held it to his chest, clutching it fearfully. "Where did you go? Y-You said you wouldn't leave..." A tear rolled silently down his face and dropped onto the pillow, making a little dark spot. "You left me... Why?" Another dark spot appeared on the pillow. "Did someone take you away? Or did you get tired of me?" He hugged the pillow tighter and buried his face into it. He let out a small sob, feeling utterly alone. Suddenly, a thought came to him.

"Was it... Was it Robert?" he wondered out loud. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, thinking. He remembered how much England seemed to like Robert, and how Robert appeared to like him back. America felt a little pang of jealousy and an overwhelming dislike for the strange, hooded Thing. He sat up again and threw his legs over the side of the bed. His head was screaming in protest, telling him to lie back down, but he wasn't listening. He stood up, still holding onto the pillow as some sort of support, and shakily walked to the doorway. His legs almost failed him and sent him toppling over, but he caught the door-frame and leaned against it, taking deep breaths to steady himself. When he was ready, he reluctantly let go of the door-frame and walked out into the hallway. He stopped, wondering which way to go. He heard some voices coming from downstairs, so he turned towards the stairs and started walking, determined to find England.

"I won't let that Thing take anything else from me," he muttered under his breath," and I certainly won't let him hurt England." He reached the stairs and carefully put one foot onto the step. As he started to shift his weight onto that foot, a sudden, harsh cough surprised him and shattered his already-frail balance. He tumbled forwards and heard a sickening crack as his head hit a step. He couldn't breath and his head was spinning. He cried out in pain as his vision blurred and faded.

_What a stupid way to die,_ he thought before he passed out.

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><p><strong>This chapter was written purely to satisfy my own, sick fetish. A.K.A. EXTREMELY SLEEPYSICK ALFRED (OR ANYONE, REALLY). Yeah. XD**

**Also, that thing that happened to Alfred's vision? Yeah, that really happened to me once. In the middle of church. It was scary... But then dad bought me some cookies and I felt better. XD**

**R&R please!  
><strong>


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